Doctor Romania
by LadyCeruleanBlue
Summary: Remington had her life planned out: become a doctor, cure cancer, and live her life without love. Then a marriage law was put into place and two thirds of that went down the drain. Charlie only wanted to study and take care of dragons. He didn't want to take care of the fiery doctor that moved to the reserve. Neither thinks they want the married life...until they do.
1. What's Up, Doc?

**Hello everyone and welcome to a little fic I created quite a while ago. I know that marriage law fics are over done and outrageous, but I couldn't get this one out of my brain. I hope you enjoy!**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter, etc.**

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**Chapter 1: What's up, Doc?**

Life for many people is considered rather boring. They start their boring life by waking up in their boring houses and then leave their boring families and go to their boring jobs before going back to their boring families and starting the day over again. But for Charlie Weasley, his life was anything but _boring_. He woke up every day to the sun rising in beautiful Romania, and all of his wonderful—if rather overbearing—family was back in Europe, where they stayed unless Charlie invited them unwillingly over. And he only stayed in Britain if something special had happened, such as Bill and Fleur's first child two months ago.

His job was anything but boring as well. Who all could say that they got to work with dragons, birth them, nurse them, and train with them every day?

Well, he couldn't at the moment. He was looking down at his newly-burnt arm with a horrible understanding of what it was like to _not_ work with dragons. It meant that he was going to be put on medical leave. It was rather severe and the newbies around him had decided to start panicking, pushing him towards the medical hut. It hadn't started hurting yet, but when it did, he would be in for a very painful end of the day.

"...just your luck, too," one of the more experienced men, Jared Smith, was saying as he hurried Charlie to the healer, "there's a new healer as of today."

"New?" he heard himself asking, wondering if he might lose his arm after all. New healers were usually right out of wizardry school and only the most foolish ever came to the dragon reserve. The good news was that this healer had to be better than Old Man Jenkins who couldn't see two feet in front of his face and gave out sugar pills for everything...even a burn. With a new healer, he knew that his arm would be scarred for life at the least, and at the worst, he would definitely lose his arm. Still would have been better than Jenkins, but... "Just my bloody luck."

"American, I hear," a newbie from Hogwarts was saying, still frantic with panic. "So now I'm not the newbie anymore!" Merlin, he _hated_ newbies. Didn't know anything they really needed to know and always thought that their label was gone the second someone even newer came along. Eventually they learned or burned out, but at the beginning it was always a tossup.

The medical hut was a small, seven-room house that was crudely made with fire-proof bricks of different reds and browns. A cool mud kept the heat out as there was no "air conditioning" as the muggles called it. It was old, haphazard, and slightly cramped. One room was the healer's, with space for one bed, a desk, and shelves for potions. Three were patient rooms, and each held three beds, while another one was the small waiting room in front. One more was surgery, and the last was physical therapy, for those poor souls who had worse than third degree burns. He knew which one he had, and it definitely wasn't third or second.

"Dad," came a _female_ voice as he walked in, supported by a man on either side of him, "I told you, I've just been re-stationed. No—no, I can't tell you where I am. It's—it's classified. No, you cannot trace this call!"

"Healer?" Jared Smith called, trying to keep Charlie from falling flat on his face.

"A moment," she called, a tense silence between her and whoever she was talking to. "No, it's not what I wanted, but I can't tell the government _no_." Who the hell was she talking to?

He was looking at the floor now, seeing some horrible shag carpet there, but it seemed like the right place to be looking as his vision swam.

"I have my own clinic, I have good pay, and I'm helping people. What more could I—good God!" Charlie saw papers falling to the ground in front of him. "Dad, I'll call you back!"

Suddenly he was being levitated through the air. "Tell me what happened," came that voice, and it seemed far away but he could tell that the woman was right next to him. He was laid down on a hard table and he vaguely felt his shirt being magically taken off. A light was shone over him and something was touching his hurt arm. He growled, flinching away from the touch. Something restrained him.

"We were working with a rowdy group of dragons with the newbies, and some of'em decided to try and show off. Charlie here jumped in front of'em." Good ol' Jared.

"What breed?"

"Does it really matter?"

"Yes, actually, it does."

"Peruvian Vipertooth. But why—?"

"I need all of you but Mr. Smith out of here," that same, stern voice said as a light was put over his eyes, moving back and forth. He clenched his eyes shut and swatted at it.

"Charlie, can you hear me?" the voice asked. He felt fingertips gently fluttering over his forehead, dusting away the hair there. "Is there any chance, any at all, that he got bit?" Besides the repeating sting of something being pulled off of it, his entire arm was starting to go numb.

"No," he managed to groan out. "First degree burn."

"I know that, Charlie, thank you." The snap of fingers came to his ears, a light still in his eyes. "Murtlap essence." He smelt smoke and heard a slight pop. Then something was touching his arm and he jerked, grabbing a small wrist that suddenly tensed up. He could see again and he was looking into bright green eyes that were glaring right at him. Clear skin came into view, as well as a tan that was slightly off on a rather large nose. Black eyebrows and lashes but thick brown hair cut as short as a boy's adorned a woman. She had a square-shaped face and high cheekbones, though the planes were sternly sharp, and her face was rather harsh. "Charlie," she said slowly, with a stern purse to her wide, thin lips, "lay back down so that I can treat you."

"Do what she says, mate," Jared said softly. Charlie saw him rubbing the back of his head uncomfortably.

He felt weaker, all of the adrenaline suddenly gone from his body. The green-eyed witch slowly pushed him down, back onto the table, and more of the painful essence was put onto his arm. "That hurts."

"_Everything_ will hurt." There was a laugh in her voice which made her sound more..._human_. "Give me a moment and I'll put on the healing salve and wrap you up. Are you positive that the dragon didn't bite you?"

"Extremely. I know what a dragon bite is. Miss...?"

"Doctor or Doc to you." She must have snapped her fingers again. Another poof of smoke appeared and then he felt her hands on his injured arm, covering it in some kind of medication that burned, leaving his entire arm tingling dangerously. "No, I am not wet behind the ears. Yes, I am a certified doctor."

"You mean healer. Where'd you go to school?"

"American Academy of Magic and then Harvard to get my doctorate. I served my residency in New York. I'm very capable—and yes, while I'm a healer, I prefer the term _doctor. _Took longer to get that title."

He let that sink in for a moment—this meant that she was definitely muggle-born. Not that it bothered him, but he wondered how a witch who went to an obviously-muggle uni was up-to-date on her wizard diseases. Or burns.

"I was at Hogwarts."

"Really?"

He didn't hear her sarcasm so he went on. "Gryffindor. Team captain. Winner of the House Cup." He smirked, remembering the last-minute save of that last match, remembering everything from the cool metal to the feeling of the hard ground beneath him to the handling of himself as the rest of his House picked him up and carried him all the way back up to the Gryffindor common room to start the party of the century. "What's an American doing all the way out here?"

"I'm a doctor and you didn't have one on the reserve that was properly certified. Besides that, it's none of your business."

He was taken aback from her harsh words which seemed to come out of her accentless-mouth so casually. Doc started wrapping the wound at that point and all he felt was a strange numbness. She put a little bit of pressure on his arm which made him look up into her bright green eyes. She was smirking with her wide petal lips. The slight contempt she held in her eyes kind of pissed him off a little. "You're good to go, Charlie. In the morning, take off the wrapping, _Scorgify_ your arm, and you should be good for work."

Jared looked startled. "Are you sure that's a good idea? That was dragon fire!"

Suddenly her face resumed a stern, angry look and she glared at Jared, who then turned sheepish. "Yes, and he's lucky that there was an arm left to save." She looked slightly annoyed as she turned back to look at Charlie. "If you believe it is necessary, you may take precautions tomorrow during work, but other than that you should be fine."

Strange music started to blare from her hip. The doctor groaned and took out a large black brick from her pocket. "Sorry, I have to take this." She moved away, pushed a button on the brick, and then started speaking into it as she walked into another room. "I had a patient...!"

Jared grabbed Charlie by the good arm and tried to pick his friend up. Charlie stared after the new doctor—she was rather plain, besides her eyes. Too skinny. Boyish in figure with that short, mousy hair. Not a bad ass, though. He watched it as she walked away before he shook his head and leaned against the newbie.

"Looks like you won't have to miss work after all," Jared said with a disgruntled look on his sunburned face.

Charlie hoped that the doctor's prognosis was correct, but he would have to see it to believe it. "Yeah...looks like it."


	2. What an embezzle! What an ultramaroon!

**Chapter 2: What an embezzle! What an ultramaroon!**

Remington threw her satellite phone down onto the bed and followed soon after, staring up at the thatched ceiling. She gave out a scream of frustration and threw a few pillows against the opposite wall which only seemed to knock down a pile of boxes she had yet to unpack.

She had graduated from Harvard four years ago with her doctorate. She'd gotten done with her residency in New York less than two weeks ago, ready to start her fellowship with one of the most prestigious hospitals in the world. She had the opportunity to work in the wizarding world as a healer or stick to the no-maj world. But, rather than make that choice herself, she'd been forced to choose middle-of-nowhere _Romania._

Her father thought that she was in the military and had become a medical officer in the Navy. He didn't have the clearance to know that she was actually a witch. Through the years, he'd never been allowed to know about her abilities. He'd probably throw her in a psych ward if she told him that she was a witch. He was one of those religious people that only believed in a higher power. Miracles, not magic, even thought it was real.

The only problem was that he was on Remi's case. Her excuses were getting harder and harder to conjure up. As an American government official, he had to be high enough up to know about her. His clearance was too low and he hadn't been her confidant.

Military school had been the easiest to hide under. The American Academy of Magic, school for nine years of her life, used rankings from the actual American military. So when she came home each year with a new rank and a freshly-ironed uniform, her father never questioned it. She still learned math, music, sciences, and no-maj history, so she wasn't behind when she went to Harvard for her undergraduate degree and doctorate. The last three years of AAM were collegiate-level courses anyway.

Hiding her magic in the real world (college) hadn't been hard, either. In fact, she'd lived without magic for twelve years of her life before she'd gone to AAM. Both parents having been no-maj, she knew how to function outside of wizarding life. It wasn't hard. She owned a cell-phone and she'd held a campus job at Harvard. She had a computer and a television and a subscription to _21_ _Magazine._

She turned her head to the side, looking at her nightstand. Sitting there was a piece of paper that sealed away the rest of her life. She picked it up, its crinkles and tears fitting comfortably in her hands. She didn't know how many times she'd read through the damned thing but it was ready to fall apart.

The words blurred as she stared past them. She didn't have to read them to know what they spelled out—_do this, or lose your magic. Do this, or lose everything you've worked so hard to achieve. Do it or your family will never remember your ever being born._

Remington stared at the page, stared at the name in the middle. _Charles Weasley. _ The man she would be married to. She had gotten the letter from her eagle the second she'd stepped outside on the last day of her residency. It told her that she had two weeks to make her way to Romania to meet her _fiancé. _She then had to find him, make sure he'd gotten his letter, and then both of them had to port key back to England to get married in the Ministry itself.

How was she even supposed to figure out who this Weasley guy was? According to her files, over two-hundred men lived on the dragon preserve. Very few had their wives there and only one file said that there were children there. This wasn't a place for kids or families. It was dangerous and not a place to conceive a child.

_Children._ The whole reason she had to marry the man. After the wars in America and England, the American government and English Ministry put into effect a marriage law. This was to prevent pure-blooded wizards from marrying other pure-blooded wizards and creating pure-blooded babies. They were matching as many no-maj-borns to pure-blooded wizards as they could and forcing them to procreate.

As a doctor—a no-maj, _human_ doctor—Remi found it completely and utterly disgusting. She was a twenty-nine year old woman for God's sake, perfectly capable of making her own choices and rationally finding a mate for herself. But as a witch who wanted to keep her wand, she knew that she had to do as she was told. While she could go back and live in the no-maj world, she couldn't live without her family knowing who she was. She couldn't have the Presidency or the Ministry _Obliviate_ her father and brother all because she couldn't suck it up and sleep with a man.

Besides, if they didn't conceive, she could divorce the man and never have to be put on the list for marriage again. Still, there had to be proof of them trying and that meant more than just once a month. They couldn't use contraceptives. They couldn't try to kill each other—there was a charm on them that would kill the other in the same, if not more painful, way.

And there would most likely be a conception. "Magic breeds magic" was the old saying. Two wizards with compatible magic could conceive dozens of babies if they wanted to, and all wizards were tested for their compatibility when they got their wands. It was most likely a 100% match between Remi and this Mr. Weasley.

Throwing an arm over her eyes, she sighed and threw the letter on the floor. _I've got two more days before I have to find him. Charles...Charles... I'll do it...later.  
_


	3. That's a joke, I say, that's a joke son

**Chapter 3: That's a joke, I say, that's a joke son**

"Owls're here."

Charlie looked up and watched as the flock of owls flew over the dragon reserve. The sun was setting and his shift had just gotten over, being replaced by the second- and third-shifters. He loved this time of the day—everyone was relaxing around the fire pit, drinking, having a great time.

Though not everyone, apparently. "Shit, man," Jared said. When Charlie looked over, the young man was pale as a ghost. "This isn't good."

"All right?" he asked, still waiting on his mail. He figured his mum would send him an update on Victore, the first grandchild of the family. A picture would be nice to have of his niece.

Jared actually had to sit down. Charlie sat up and stared with renewed worry at the newbie. "It's, ah...I'm getting married."

"The marriage law?" This was Mike Miller, who was feeding his owl a crumb of bread. A grizzled older man with years of experience and a soft spot for small animals. "Didn't think that applied to us. We can't have kids out here, let alone wives. Too dangerous."

"I've got to go pick her up," the doomed young man said. He started rifling through the papers with the look of a man on death row. His usual care-free smile was replaced by trembling lips and shaking hands. "We're getting married in a week. She's from Scotland...I'll, ah, need a week or so off I guess..."

Charlie scoffed and laid back down, staring up at the stars. He loved it out in Romania—beautiful, remote, and, more important, it was time outside and alone. He would hate to be saddled down with a woman and kids to take all of that away.

He knew dozens of his mates from school who had been saddled with some American and Scottish lasses. None were a sight to look at, that was for sure. All of them were too muggle for their husbands to understand. Now they all had kids they didn't love. He couldn't imagine having to grow up that way—his parents were both pure-blooded and _he _hadn't turned out badly, at least he didn't think so.

He thought that the marriage law was stupid. While the wars had hurt wizard's numbers, and the pure-blooded wizards had started it, they didn't need to bring children into the world who wouldn't be loved. Creating these "safe" wizards by way of compatibility, even if it did help raise the wizarding population, could even start a new war of a more powerful wizarding race.

At the end of these thoughts, a large hawk landed on his stomach, making him lose his breath and groan in pain. He sat up slowly, as not to anger the beast before he gently pet its head. While it had hurt him, the bird was a noble, beautiful creature. It'd been a while since he'd seen one. A large letter was wrapped around its ankle.

He'd never seen a hawk as a messenger before. A small inkling in his brain made him think of the new doctor, but this bird had specifically landed on _his_ stomach. He untied the letter and fed the bird a scrap of jerky.

His heart stopped in his chest and he suddenly found it hard to breathe. _From the Office of the American Government and English Ministry of Magic—Read Immediately._

"You too, huh?" Jared asked softly.

Charlie could barely hear the new man's words. Instead, a hollow ringing filled his hears. His hands shook as he opened the letter.

_One week—_

_Marriage Law—_

_Consummation—_

_Children—_

The one thing that caught his mind was the name of the woman he was going to be forced to be with. _Remington Kennedy. _He had no clue who that could even be. Some American woman, too large for her knickers, who would take over his life and completely ruin everything he'd worked so hard to achieve.

Charlie rolled his head around and ran a hand through his too-long hair. He had a week to find her. And he had a week to tell her. One thing really bothered him and stood out above all of his different, warring worries, though:

_How the bloody hell do I tell Mum?_


	4. You're despicable

**Chapter 4: You're despicable**

When the sun rose for his shift, Charlie just stared at the ceiling. The rising heat didn't even draw him from his blankets. All he could think about was the fact that this was one of his last nights alone in his own bed. That being if the woman he married would want to sleep in his bed or if he'd even want her there.

This would be his last morning to enjoy the silence, the stillness. Would he be able to stand this woman? Would he be able to sleep with someone, conceive a child, and live with that person for the rest of his life? He would love the child no matter what. He'd grown up in a loving family and wouldn't subject a child to anything less.

What would his wife look like, he wondered? Would she be as awful as some of his mates described their wives? Would she be some young, just-out-of-school bit? Would she be years older than him? Personalities were a whole other deal all together. She could be a complete and utter bitch or a tame little thing he wouldn't be able to stand. They might have nothing in common other than good baby-making genes.

All of these thoughts gave him a headache. Instead of lying there, moping about for the rest of the day, he got up and threw on a pair of work clothes. Didn't bother with the shower. He figured that, once he lost his freedom, he'd have to shower everyday anyway. He kicked through the slight mess on his floor and, once again, didn't care.

The fresh, warm air outside cleared his mind and let him relax a little. Throughout all of what was to come, he remembered that he would still be able to lose himself in his job. He could spend as much time as he needed to with his dragons. He would bury himself with taking care of them, at least until his kid was born.

_Merlin_, he thought as he grabbed a cup of coffee at the fire pit. Eggs and toast were cooking over the fire, sending delicious smells throughout the compound. _I can't have a kid. I'm not ready._

He, Jared, and two old-timers were all lost deep in thought as they barely drank their coffees. All four of them were going to be saddled with women they didn't ask for. Some other wranglers gave pitying glances but were obviously relieved that it wasn't them getting married.

Charlie only gave a nod as he finished, forgoing breakfast, and grabbed his broom. The reserve was thousands of acres, housing dozens of different dragons and eight breeds—they'd just gotten an American Piasa to live in the furthest "pen" from the wranglers' homes and that was where he was heading. The Piasa was almost as dangerous as a Hungarian Horntail, but without the flames. Instead it stalked its prey and strangled it, then tortured it, then ate it.

The American Piasa was a new breed on the reserve. Normally the Longhorn Ranch in Texas kept them, valuing their regrowing, shedding horns as trade items that helped keep the reserve in the green. This time, though, they had too many. As the Romanian reserve had yet to have one, they requested a trade rather than killing off a beautiful creature. All dragon tamers tried to keep from that ending for the majestic creatures.

Piasas were anywhere from golden to clay red, matching the hunting grounds they normally inhabited. They had the longest tail-length of any dragon to date—growing up to almost a kilometer long itself, a Piasa's tail could kill anyone with an accidental flick. The tail ended in a fish-like fin, allowing the creature to wade through waters with ease, especially at younger ages. They were bearded with long, lanky faces and bodies. Their wings were feathered like penguins to better help with swimming and they didn't fly well.

Their new Piasa was but six months old. While full-grown dragons of that breed ate humans and large animals, they were hoping to train this one to eat smaller animals and vegetation. So far, weaning it of brandy and chicken blood with the alternatives seemed to be working. He was in charge of its growth and adaptation into its new habitat. He'd been there when it had been born and it had imprinted on him.

They still weren't sure what its gender was. Being such a newly-discovered breed, they didn't know everything about its growth patterns and hormone cycles. It seemed to be around a year or two that the dragon developed teats for females or an internal sex organ for males. They hoped it was a male, as the females tended to be more aggressive and dominant.

He landed his broom outside the magical ward that kept their new dragon in but let small animals wander inside for it to hunt. Anyone entering was required to keep their wand up at all times and wear thick, dragon-hide armor. He put on the pair that was left at the outpost outside the ward. Even at such a small size, the dragon's tail was as long as Charlie was tall and could strangle him without a care in the world.

Also, it could poison him with any of the sharp barbs that grew out of its head. Another minor detail.

But this was what he loved. It was dangerous, but he got to live with these beautiful creatures. He got to raise them, groom them to be the best they could be, and got to see them grow as creatures. He wouldn't risk his life every day if he didn't love it.

He started searching for the beast. It would hide itself in the clay surrounding the clear lake and hunt the small animals that would make their way inside. Other times, it would be in the lake, hunting for fish like they'd been trying to teach it. He just hoped that one day it wouldn't think to hunt _him_.

About a half an hour later of trying to find the beast, he heard humming. Most dragons didn't make any noises besides growls when angry or purrs when content, so a hum was strange. He followed the melodic voice into the wooded area of the Piasa's enclosure.

What he saw made him a little angry but very intrigued. A woman was standing in the middle of a clearing in nothing but strangely short pants and an orange tank-top. Orange and white trainers were on her feet and she was kneeling in the calf-deep grass. Short, brown, mousy hair covered the top of her head and he could see that she was slightly muscled all over, now that she wasn't covered in a lab coat. Still too skinny though.

"For a doctor, you aren't very bright," he joked.

She stood up and her elbow was suddenly at his throat. Her wand was dug deep into his side and her eyes were narrowed dangerously. "You'd do well not to sneak up on me!" she said. Her voice was a low, harsh growl. Although she stood a whole head shorter than his already-short frame, her stance was set to that of an offensive nature and he had the feeling that she could take care of herself. He realized that she was wearing large, thick-framed glasses, unlike the day before. Her nose was a little red and her eyes were slightly bloodshot.

He'd positioned his wand at her back in a defensive move. He jammed it into her spine and pulled her a little closer. She lowered her elbow to keep from completely choking him. "And you'd do well to not wander around the reserve, _Doc_. Figured a muggle-learned woman like you would know to stay out of a dangerous dragon's enclosure. So, what's a woman like you doing in a place like this?"

Angry blush filled her smooth cheeks and she tried to get away. Charlie just kept his wand in her back and refused to let her. She glared up at him in a way that made his smirk turn into a wide smile. "I believe that's my own business." He noticed that he'd completely engulfed her small form.

"See, but then I wouldn't be doing my job."

She stared at him for a moment longer before pushing her glasses up her nose with a free hand. The wand in his side pulled back. "I was looking for herbs and ingredients for potions and tonics. You don't exactly have anything to keep people from dying stored away in your hospital hut."

Charlie let her go and took a step back. He had to admit, she was right—Jenkins had only ever kept wolfsbane on the shelves to keep werewolves away. "Well you can't do it here. This is the Piasa enclosure."

Doc's eyes widened—he wondered when he'd learn her name, but decided he didn't care—and he saw a spark of something hidden in those green-brown depths. "No way! I thought these were Piasa horns but I couldn't be sure. You should grow Fluxweed for it. It enhances growth and lowers hostility in Piasas."

He was rather surprised at this. Most people he knew didn't care much for Care of Magical Creatures, so he assumed that no one knew how to take care of any creature, let alone a dragon. "Fluxweed, is it?"

"We had a Piasa in our lake at the American Academy of Magic," she said. This was met with a small laugh and she then let out a sigh. "Yeah, took four years and six trips to the hospital to get that thing out of there."

"What's a doctor doing wrangling dragons?" he asked. He couldn't help the teasing lilt that came into his voice.

She shrugged and continued doing what she had been—apparently collecting more horns for her potions. "When your commanding officer tells you to jump in a lake and clear it of a dangerous creature, you don't bat an eyelash."

He almost replied but a rustle in the bushes turned the mood real quick. He saw the tail coming before she did, so he ran forward and tackled her to the ground. The tail snapped where her head had been and his heart hammered against his chest. "Don't...move," he said softly into her ear. Her small, bony body beneath his was tense with adrenaline. Her hair was soft against his cheek and she smelled like grass and clean laundry.

The purr of the Piasa curled around the nearby trees. While the beast wouldn't be able to blend in to the greenery—it was red, like the clay near the lake—it was still a master of stealth. It had yet to try and eat one of its male trainers, but that didn't mean that the smell of a female human wouldn't set off its senses.

"That wasn't necessary," she said back. Still, she didn't move a muscle. Her nice ass was nestled snugly against his hips and he pretended he didn't notice it. "What's your plan, tough guy?"

"Don't die," he said off-handedly. She growled at him and he said, "We need to distract it. When I say go, leg it to the left."

"_What?_"

He sighed. _Daft Americans. _"_Run_. _Stupefy_ it the second it attacks. It's small enough that the two of us should be able to put it down."

She nodded. "Got it. Ready?"

"Ready."

"_Go!_"

Both of them sprinted to their designated areas and turned, ready to face a dangerous Piasa dragon. He heard the doctor's cry of _"Wait!" _before he realized that the creature wasn't getting ready to attack. The purr had been a sound of intrigue from the creature which was looking at the ground where the both of them had been seconds before.

_It's gotten bigger,_ he thought with a small gulp of apprehension. He risked a glance over to Doc who had her wand up. She looked very unmenacing and not in any shape or form ready to defend herself. He could have broken her like a twig with the flex of his arms. She had no armor to protect herself from the beast's tail and her bare skin would easily be pierced by the beast's teeth or poisons spines.

Looking back at the creature, it was sniffing the ground where they had been. Then it started eating something. "Fluxweed!"

"Move away very slowly, Charlie," Doc said loud enough for him to hear. He nodded and both of them slowly backed away. When they were out of sight of the creature, they both went into a dead sprint.

For being bony and too skinny, Doc could move. She was even faster than Charlie who was a little too bulky to get to full speed. Still, they made it out of the wooded area and ran for another kilometer before they reached the ward.

Both of them huffed as they stopped and took deep breaths, bending over and putting their hands on their knees to keep steady. She glanced up at him and then let out a broad laugh. He'd never heard a woman actually laugh like that, from deep in her belly. All the girls he knew giggled. She let out a _whoop_ and kept laughing as she kicked her knees up high.

"This isn't really funny," Charlie said softly, his fight-or-flight instinct still keeping him tense. She stopped jumping up and down but she still had a laughing light in her green eyes.

"Adrenaline," she said with a shrug. Her smile only faded a smidgen.

"I don't care what you call it. There are rules here, Doc, and you can't just do whatever you want." He didn't normally get that serious but she'd scared the pudding out of him.

The light in her eyes was gone and replaced with a seriousness he hadn't seen since she'd treated his arm. She cleared her throat and stood up a little straighter. She stared him straight in the face. "I didn't mean to break any of your rules. I'm new here and I was just trying to familiarize myself with the foliage in the area."

Charlie groaned and pinched the bridge of his nose to keep a migraine from forming. "Look, Doc...if you ever need any of the ingredients that our dragons offer, just _ask_. We have Collectors who go around and specifically pick up all of the sheddings, feces, and anything else you might need."

"I assume that these 'collections' pay to keep all of you on the reserve," she said. A sarcastic grin was on her face. "Will I have to pay for them as well?"

He wasn't sure if she was trying to be coy or actually asking. "Well, the sales of those collections also pay your paycheck and stipend. You'll have to ask Jenkins about that."

Another short, full-bellied laugh came from her bow lips. "You are amusing. I can't get anything out of that old man. He thinks that I'm his handmaiden and orders me to go and cook him dinner every night. If he weren't a wizard, I would change the locks on the medical hut."

Charlie looked over the woman again and laughed. It was adrenaline, as she said, but he felt himself lose control all the same. "Look, I understand that you don't know our rules. Next time we have initiation, I'll pull you in. You have to learn one way or another."

She nodded, the same, logical, serious look on her face. "I don't expect special treatment. As for ingredients, can I send you the list of items that I need?"

Her green eyes looked directly into his soul. Hopeful. He nodded and smiled. "Of course. In the meantime, you should get back to your hut. For a bunch of strong, well-trained men, we get hurt a lot."

She took a curtsey and rolled her eyes at him. "Of course, _Jenkins_, I'll get right on that." With that, she turned on heel and summoned her broom. As she hopped on, he heard her mumbling irately. "Apparently I didn't spend seven years of my life studying radiation oncology. I'll be treating minor burns and wounds until I die in this hell hole...if only I could get a good canoli here, it'd be the Bronx all over again..."


	5. he's got more nerve than a bum tooth

**Chapter 5: Nice boy but he's got more nerve than a bum tooth**

Walking into the main courtyard the next morning seemed like a graveyard. Remington slowly made her way through the sand to where a large bonfire was set up, logs and rocks and hammocks set up around it for the dragon trainers to relax on. Tables and benches sat even outside that for meals.

Fifteen sets of eyes made their ways toward her. All male. She realized at that moment that she was one of the only females on the reservation. Wives, children—none of them lived out in middle-of-nowhere Romania. Women didn't statistically become dragon trainers, breeders, or wranglers. And children didn't exactly do well with dragons.

That was soon to change, though. She could see at least two men staring down at paper, their hands shaking, faces pale. The mail had just come in. She would bet an entire year's salary that they had been ordered to marry someone. After all, all of the dragon reserve men were hot commodities in the baby-breeding category. It was surprising that this was the first any of them had seen of a marriage law letter.

She tried to look at some of their faces but most of them had their heads down. She wasn't sure how she was going to find one man and say, _Hello, my name is Remi and I'm your very unwilling fiancée._

That seemed like the best course of action, so she plowed on ahead. She looked around the fire again, trying to get her eyes used to the light, when she saw her hawk in all his majestic glory. Winchester raised his head when she whistled at him and he flew over. "Hi baby," she cooed as he landed on her shoulder. She scratched under its beak and made noises at him. "What're you doing here?" He didn't have any mail attached to his leg or anything.

"I figured he was yours," came a familiar voice. Remington looked up into deep blue eyes and couldn't help but flush a little. Charlie, the man she'd treated and had partially saved her life, was _really_ handsome. He had the longest eyelashes she'd ever seen, surrounded by freckles that almost formed into a tan on his pale skin. Shaggy red-orange hair brushed over his ears, growing out after what looked like a brutal cutting. He was dressed in a long-sleeve thermal, as it was rather cold out in the desert at night, and had a pair of some kind of work jean that looked like Carharts, but she knew better. Wizards didn't wear no-maj brands, let alone a Brit wearing American clothing. He was short (but still taller than her,) stocky, and had beautiful arms, as much as she remembered after treating him, anyway. And from him holding her the day before. And tackling her.

One of those arms, attached to a hand, was holding out a letter. It was strange, as she'd never given anyone her new address. Anyone who needed to get in contact with her had her pager number anyway. "Thanks," Remington said. She felt a little flushed and she told herself it was because of the firelight, not because his blue eyes bored straight into her soul. "Not sure who's sending me mail, but—"

The second she reached out to touch the letter, still attached to his hand, she felt a tug in her stomach. Not the good kind of tug, either. She was suddenly being sucked up into the air and flown hundreds of thousands of miles an hour.

As soon as it had happened, they were both in the lobby of some government. Remington assumed it was the English Ministry of Magic, as the fashion was a lot stranger than what America had. Wizards barely glanced at them—apparently two strangers popping up in a waiting room was a common occurrence.

"Bloody hell," Charlie said, his face suddenly pale. He fell back into a cushioned seat and leaned his head back.

Remington perched herself on the chair's arm and grasped his arm, placing two fingers on his pulse. Whereas she was used to port keys from traveling back and forth to school, most wizards she knew didn't use them all that often. "Just motion sickness. It'll pass."

Those bright blue eyes looked up at her and she lost her breath for a moment. He was so close that she smelled his after-shave. It smelled like a Quodpot field after the rain and he had a musky, smoky smell from working with dragons all day. All-in-all, he smelled like a man. A very handsome man.

The man, she realized, she was going to marry.

"I'm fine, now," he said, grasping her wrist in one large hand and pulling her away from his arm. "I don't need your professional opinion to tell me that."

She released a breath she didn't realize she was holding and stood up, away from the chair and his smell. "I take it you're Charles?"

He nodded, his mouth set in a firm line. "And you're Remington?"

"I go by Remi. Dad's obsessed with guns."

"I go by Charlie. Not sure what a _guns_ is, but you're muggle-born. And female…and I was stupid not to put two and two together." He obviously had no idea what a gun was, just as none of the other dragon-wranglers had known what her satellite phone had been when they'd tried to cast spells on it to figure out what it was.

Remi snorted and crossed her arms over her chest. "This is the reason that there's this law in the first place, y'know. Judging based on what you don't know. Did you even take a no-maj course at Hogwarts?"

"No," he said sarcastically, standing up and taking the same stance she had. His scowl seemed to twitch and want to become a smirk. "I was too busy taking magical creature courses to save barmy little muggle-born doctors who get lost in the woods."

"Excuse me," a man interrupted them.

"_What_?" they both asked sharply, making the man jump. He was wearing a Ministry robe and held official marriage documents in his hands.

Remi's future husband put on a smile, then. "So sorry, sir. We were just getting to know each other a little better. What can we help you with..." He looked at the man's name tag. "Ralph?"

The small, balding man shook his head and straightened his small, round glasses. "I-I'm supposed to take you to your marriage ceremony."

Charles, or "Charlie," as he liked to be called, laughed and ran a hand through his shaggy hair. "My mum is going t' kill me."

_My mother is dead,_ Remi thought, but she didn't say that out loud. "Sorry, guess you're stuck with me. Hope she's okay with her son marrying an American no-maj."

"She doesn't care about that, believe me," he said wryly. Both of them started following Ralph.

Remi had a knot in the bottom of her stomach. While she'd never fantasized over her dream wedding like most girls, this wasn't exactly the way she'd been planning it. And not to a guy she butted heads with and had just met. Well...she'd never really thought of marriage at all, really.

Charles sighed and ran a hand through his hair again, obviously a nervous tick. "She'll just be mad that she couldn't be here for this. When she reads in the paper that I've been married, I'll get a howler for sure."

"Well, my family can't even know about us." This was said bitterly under her breath. She hated the American no-maj-born rules—that, if they were in the government and, unless they had government clearance (Level 8 clearance, to be exact,) then the no-mag parent couldn't know about their wizard child. Normally both parents were allowed the information but, since her father worked in government and they had been divorced, only her mother was allowed to know. And well, she wasn't exactly around anymore. "The best part will be going home for Thanksgiving and trying to explain why I have a ring glued to my finger."

And what the hell was a howler?

He looked over in confusion and was about to ask a question before Ralph stopped, pulling them into a room. It was sparse, with just enough room for the three of them, a desk, and two chairs in front of it. He motioned for them to sit down.

"Ms. Kennedy—" Ralph said this as he sat down behind his chair.

"Doctor," she hastily corrected. "I worked a long time to get that title."

Ralph adjusted his glasses irately. "Yes, apologies. _Healer_ Kennedy, you were sent your marriage certificate two weeks ago to the date." Remi glared at the man for refusing to use her real title. "Do you understand the terms and conditions? That, if you try to cheat the system in any way or if you refuse to go through with this marriage, your wand will be destroyed and your magic taken away?"

She cleared her throat and glanced at the man to her left with a small amount of contempt. "Unfortunately."

Charlie didn't look much happier, in all honesty. "She got her letter _two weeks ago? _How is it that I just got mine a few days ago?"

"You have a permanent residence," Ralph said. He didn't bother looking at either of them as he shuffled papers on his desk. "The healer had to relocate after finishing something called a _surgical residency_. We gave her two weeks to move and find you. Obviously you found each other or you wouldn't be here at this point in time."

Charlie's hands, Remi noticed, were gripping his armrests so hard that his knuckles were white. "I think I deserve a little more notice than this—"

Ralph glared Charlie straight in the eye. "Are you refusing to marry Healer Kennedy?"

"_Doctor_—!"

"No, I—!"

"Because if you are, then you forfeit your right to magic. Your wand will be destroyed and you will be forced to live in the muggle world for the rest of your life. You'd be _Obliviated_ from your family's memory. That or marriage, Mr. Weasley. It isn't a hard choice."

Charlie looked at Remi for a long while after that, obviously stunned silent. Remi just looked back at him. If anything, at least he was handsome and in her age range. She'd had dozens of friends get married off, some to older gentlemen who'd already had children and lost their wives or to scrawny, pathetic weaklings. Charlie was no old man, nor was he weak by any means.

"I'm not that bad," she tried to joke, but it was just met with a wan smirk.

"I'm sure you're not." He shook his shaggy mane of hair and looked back up to Ralph, who was impatiently tapping his fingers on his desk. "So, what do we have to do?"

The official cleared his throat and held up his measly little wand. "Hold hands, please."

They couldn't meet each other's eyes as they grasped hands. His were at least twice the size of hers and callused like no other—obviously from hard labor and working outside. Dragon hides weren't exactly soft.

Ralph started a binding spell that created small, shimmery lights that flew in an infinity symbol around their hands. "Do you, Remington Kennedy, take this man to be your lawfully wedded husband? To try within the best of your abilities to conceive a magical child, under the penalty of losing your magic?"

She had to clear her throat a few times before saying, "I guess so?"

The official just rolled his eyes, as if he'd done this dozens of times before. She was sure that he had. "And do you, Charles Weasley, take this woman to be your lawfully wedded wife? To try within the best of your abilities to conceive a magical child, under the penalty of losing your magic?"

He didn't even hesitate. He looked straight into Remi's eyes and said, "I do." She was lost for a moment in the furious, raging sea blue eyes that stared into her soul.

Rings appeared on each of their left ring fingers—simple gold bands that were suctioned to their skin for the first year of marriage. "Then I now pronounce you husband and wife. You have a week to consummate your marriage. I wish you luck in conceiving...just remember, we will be monitoring your, ah..._activities._"

Remington, a doctor, wasn't fazed by Ralph's honesty at all. She could see embarrassment in Charlie's eyes, though, and a slight red flush adorned his sharp cheekbones. "We know the rules, Ralph. Thank you." She said this for her _husband's _sake, rather than her own. Normal bodily functions didn't bother her as much as it did some people. "Now, if you don't mind, it's been a long day and we would both like to get back to Romania."

"Honeymooning there?" he asked with a lewd grin.

Remi did blush at his innuendo this time. In fury rather than embarrassment. "No, actually, we live on a dragon reserve there. Great place to raise children and start a family if you ask me. Not dangerous at all."

Even though he was still frowning, Charlie's eyes twinkled in amusement. "Right. We'll have a slew of kids in danger of being stomped on and burned to a crisp. What a lovely way to deal with children."

Ralph didn't take their sarcasm well and they were soon booted out of his office. He'd given them a port key and they flew back to Romania—once again, Remi had no problem with it. Charlie, on the other hand, reached out a hand to steady himself. She pulled him closer and glared when he started laughing.

"This is hardly a laughing matter." Remi frowned at him because it definitely wasn't the time. His arm was heavy on her shoulders. "What you said is true. Raising children on the reserve is dangerous."

"It's not like I'm going to move to where you live," he scoffed, still smiling

She started walking toward the hospital hut, Charlie using her as support. She supposed that they had put that snotty ministry official in his place. "There aren't exactly a lot of dragon reserves in America."

"You have a job, though. At least that's a plus."

"I _had _a respectable position in New York. I was on the track to be an attending in less than two years. But what do I get instead? Stuck out in the middle-of-nowhere Romania doing minor patch jobs and...and not cancer research! I was New York's top up-and-coming oncologist and now—" She laughed and didn't even let him speak as she rambled on. "Now I'm on the mommy track. _The mommy track! _I've been mommy tracked! There is no plus here, Mr. Weasley. Never mistake that."

He seemed dumbstruck at her statement and for once she was glad. Normally people had opinions on her outbursts but Charlie just kept silent. He pointed to where his bunk was and still kept using her as support. The port key had taken more out of him than Remi had realized.

His house was pretty small. They'd have to add on for a baby room, but there was time for that. That and a dozen other things stopped her in her tracks. She'd held a human heart in her hands and yet she wasn't brave enough to step inside with him. She stepped out from under his arm before he pulled her in with him.

"Thanks," he said off-handedly, using the door for support. She wanted to grab his wrist when he ran a hand through his hair again but stopped herself. "You should come in, we'll talk and figure out what we need to do for this…this…"

"Whatever this is, it has to wait." She hated the way those words sounded coming out of her mouth. So harsh and clinical. But that was how she had to treat the marriage. Have a kid, divorce, get back to work. She'd lived with one parent for part of her life. The kid would have two, just one at different times. It would be fine. "I've got to get back to the clinic."

"We need to talk details. Rules," he said, sounding irate. She could see the agitation in his pretty blue eyes.

"And I need to make sure no one is dying," she said softly. "You can come with me to the clinic if you'd like, but I can't sit around and act like I didn't take an oath to help people."

"You can't live at the clinic," he said. There was a smirk on his face but a dangerous light in his eyes. Remi shook her head a little and looked at him incredulously. Married for less than an hour and he was already demanding things of her! "We're husband and wife. We live together."

"We have a week," she ground out, hoping to get away from him and get her head on straight. "We can work it out in the week we have to consummate our marriage, alright?"

"Bollocks," he cursed under his breath. "Fine. I'll stop by the clinic tomorrow and we can talk. Is that tickety-boo with you, Doc?

Remi was fuming at his sarcastic use of her title. She also had no idea what 'tickety-boo' meant, but she assumed she answered correctly with, "It's perfectly fine with me, Mr. Weasley."

A dark, teasing smile found its way onto his face. "Fine with me, too. Good night, _Mrs. Weasley."_

That took both of them by surprise. She turned around, ready to leave, before she said over her shoulder, "I'm keeping my last name."

All she heard was the closing of his door behind her.


	6. Woman's cold as a nudist on an iceburg

Chapter 6: That woman's as cold as a nudist on an iceberg

Her head still wasn't on straight the next morning when she woke up with paperwork stuck to her head. It wasn't the first time she'd fallen asleep at her desk but it was the first time in Romania. She'd been so anxious all night that she'd cleaned the entire clinic, rearranged the furniture, and finished enough paperwork that she was actually ahead on her taxes and on track to finalizing her Romanian citizenship.

All that was left was collecting all the right potion ingredients, stocking her potions cabinet, and getting the right technology that she needed for her preferred treatment methods. For example, she knew that there would be plenty of pregnant woman on the reserve in the next few months, so an ultrasound machine was a must. Wizards didn't have that kind of power. There was no spell to check a baby for malformations or issues.

Not that Remi had ever seen a wizard with an extra chromosome or any kind of brain or heart defects. Wizards seemed to be immune to no-maj diseases. And yet they can't help no-majes get rid of their diseases. Magic couldn't cure the common cold or chicken pox, so why would it be able to cure cancer?

She shook her head and sorted all of the paperwork she'd done the night before. One of the requests she'd sent out had been for a heart monitor but she wasn't very sure that she'd get a response back. Why would a small healing hut in Romania get a multi-thousand-dollar machine when a hospital needed it more?

Now's the time I need one of your miracles, Dad, she sighed as she ran a hand through her hair. It was starting to get shaggy so she knew she needed a haircut. Unfortunately she didn't know that any of the men could do anything but men's haircuts and she rather liked her feminine pixie cut; she didn't want to look like a man.

Not that she cared because she was married now. No, she didn't care what Charlie thought of her. She didn't care if he thought she was attractive at all, although somewhere deep inside she was relieved to know that her husband wasn't old or ugly. He even had a job—that was good enough for her.

It was a dangerous job, though. It wasn't twenty minutes of her being awake (just long enough to brew a pot of coffee) when a man came in with a bite. While he was being treated, another came in with a few broken bones. She hadn't been able to even eat breakfast because of how many patients she was treating.

She wondered how they'd all gotten along before she'd gotten there. Old Man Jenkins hadn't believed in medicine or potions, he believed that everyone was a whiner and gave out sugar pills for broken bones. That was what everyone told her, anyway. She listened to their stories and winced at how awful of a healer that man had been. She wondered what happened to him to make him that way.

Remi wasn't able to wonder long because a more severe case of poisoning came in that trumped all of the men in her waiting room. She realized that she needed help. Jenkins would have needed clones to get through all of the men that had been hurt that day.

Apparently it was nesting season. That was what one man named O'Connor said as he recovered from a nasty concussion. Apparently that meant that more men overstepped their bounds with a female dragon and got sent to another dragon's nest—Remi's. She fussed over all of them and soon all of the clinic's rooms were full. She started making makeshift beds on the floor for those who needed to stay longer than a few minutes.

Apparently, before, they'd all been out for weeks when they'd been injured. She overheard one of the men telling the others how grateful they were that "Doc" was there. That they could get back to work ten times as fast as when Jenkins had been there. Not having eaten or taken a moment to breathe all day, it made her feel better knowing that she'd helped people. She took just a moment to lean back against a doorframe and bask in the moment.

The moment turned into a dizzy spell that had her falling to the side. Strong steel beams caught her and she was held against a broad, warm chest that helped the room stop spinning. "Remi? Hey, talk to me!"

"I haven't seen her stop since early this morning," another voice said as a light flashed in her eyes. She tried to swat it away but her limbs were weak. "Probably hasn't eaten anything. Not sure how she could, the clinic's been full."

"Once again, Doc," that familiar smooth baritone said in her ear, "you don't seem very bright." She felt a cup at her lips and she drank hungrily before it was pulled away. "Hey, slow down. Don't choke yourself."

The water hit her empty stomach and she groaned. When was the last time I ate? She thought back to the day before, so worried about finding her fiancée… It'd been almost forty-eight hours since she'd last eaten something.

"No wonder she's so skinny," the second voice said. "You'll work yourself to death, Doc."

There was toast being held in front of her face. It smelled amazing but it made her stomach turn. She shook her head, not wanting to eat it.

"Don't act like a child, Remi," that voice said. Charles. That's my husband. She realized that she was sitting on his lap, her head on his shoulder as he tried to feed her by hand. It made her body heat up and her head spin more. "Eat."

His command made her angry but her stomach told her to eat. She took the toast from his hand and nibbled on it. As her blood sugar leveled out, she realized what had happened. She still sat there, though, feeling like a kid under Charlie's glare.

"I leave you alone for a few hours and I find that you're starving yourself?" he asked with a tone that sounded calm but Remi could feel the angry vibrations in his chest from where she was sitting.

She sat up and finished off her bread, staring anywhere but at him. The other man who'd come in with him had been Patrick Smalley but he'd left. Thanks for the backup, Smalley. "I was busy. I've still got patients to take care of. If you don't mind…"

When she stood up, he grabbed her wrists and pulled her to stand between his legs. She was as tall as him sitting in the chair so she stared into his eyes defiantly. There was too much worry there for her to understand. They hadn't know each other long enough! "Take care of yourself before you take care of others."

She felt a fury rise in her chest. "I'm used to working twenty-hour days. Days that never end because people are always dying. It's my job to keep them from that and I'm the only certified healer for hundreds of miles, let alone doctor."

His thumbs started caressing the insides of her wrists. It tickled but at the same time felt too intimate for the situation. Those blue eyes bore into her soul, like always. "We were fine before you came along. No one's dying. These are just patch jobs."

It infuriated her that he was putting down her work. They weren't patch jobs, for heaven's sake! She'd saved two men's lives just that morning! Remi snatched her wrists from his in a wrist-hold break that she'd learned at the Academy. "No one's dying yet. The more men I can keep healthy on the reserve, the less likely someone is going to lose a limb or a life. More men is more man power to keep nesting dragons in order. Or am I getting that wrong?"

Remi hadn't realized it, but the entire clinic could hear their argument. Men were just as bad as women when it came to gossiping apparently and by the end of that day, everyone was speculating on their relationship.

Charlie sighed, almost defeated, and stood up, towering over her even with his short stature. "You aren't doing anyone any favors by starving yourself."

Remi groaned and found herself mimicking him by running her fingers through her hair. "God, I wasn't starving myself, I just lost track of time! I'm here alone, no help, no one to remind me to eat. I'm sorry that I forgot!"

His eyes became all puppy-dog then in a way that made it hard to look away. She could see his ears getting a little pink under his longer-than-she-liked hair. His voice lowered for the next part and he stepped closer to speak. "When you get pregnant, you can't forget to eat. You'll be eating for two soon."

Don't remind me. She hated that it was less than twenty-four hours since they'd been married and she was already dreading the actual baby part. The process to make a baby was fun when it was with the right person that she felt comfortable with but she didn't even know Charlie. She knew that he was witty and seemed over-protective and that he had nice arms. That was it.

"I'm a doctor," Remi said. "I know how to take care of a child. When and if we conceive, I'll need help around the clinic. I can't do this alone, especially during nesting season. Hell, I'm out of the basic ingredients I need and I don't even have time to write the paperwork to get more even though I caught up on all my paperwork last night."

Charlie sat back down and ran one rather large hand over his overly-freckled face. His sigh made Remi feel bad that she'd forgotten to take care of herself. In New York, she'd always had other residents to remind her to eat. To sleep. To drink water (or something stronger when the time called for it.) So far in Romania, all she felt was alone, even when surrounded by wounded dragon trainers.

"I'm sorry," he said suddenly, breaking Remi from her thoughts. She raised an eyebrow, shocked that he was apologizing. He'd been worried if anything and that didn't deem an apology. "I'm not normally so demanding. I'm very stressed and anxious about this. I never wanted kids or a wife. I just wanted to be with dragons."

I wanted kids until my mom died, she thought but didn't say out loud. "Yeah?" she was able to ask in a tired voice.

"I don't want to make this hard on you." His hand grabbed hers, surprising her. His thumb rubbed over the magically-hidden wedding band on her left ring finger although both of them could still feel it. "We are married, though, and bound under contract to try. I'm not saying that you have to stay in my bed every night or even cook or clean. I just want you to try, because if we do have a kid, I don't want her without a mum."

Remi's heart physically hurt as she stared at their joined hands. She knew that she didn't want to stay married to someone she didn't love, but she also knew what it was like growing up with one parent. No matter what, the kid would have two. As long as Charlie didn't get himself killed.

…

Charlie found her hours later, passed out on her desk. Papers were scattered everywhere. There was a big box with light coming out of it in front of her and another smaller box with papers sticking out of it right next to it. Some of the papers, he noticed, were in a calligraphy that seemed too consistent to be handwritten.

He stared at her for a moment, leaning against the door frame. According to all the men, she'd worked tirelessly to care for them on that first day of nesting for two of their new mother dragons. Half of the trainers would be out for weeks if she hadn't been there to take care of them.

He didn't want to wake her. He knew that he hadn't slept well the night before and she probably hadn't either. Charlie just left some food on a clean corner of her desk and couldn't help but run a hand over her hair. He felt like he needed to take care of her because she definitely wouldn't take care of herself.

Not sure how long he'd been standing there, he took his hand off of her rather soft hair and took a step back. He looked hard at her. She was pretty, that was for sure. Too skinny for his tastes but, if he made her eat regularly, she'd gain weight. That and when she was pregnant.

The act of making the baby was definitely one of his strong suits. He enjoyed giving—a lot. She was so headstrong, though, he didn't know if she'd break that way. He needed a sub like Gryffindors needed bravery. They had to talk about it but she seemed to want to avoid that at all costs.

I'll just have to initiate, then, he thought with a smile. If it worked, he wasn't going to be in a dead, awkward marriage. He'd get to have some fun and teach a girl exactly how he liked. If it didn't, she'd run from him at every chance she got.


	7. Mother!

**Chapter 7: Mother!**

It was four days after he was married that he got the howler.

He couldn't remember the last time his mother sent him a howler, but he'd been expecting it this time rather than last. Maybe it'd been fifth year when he'd maybe-almost gotten Tonks pregnant. That'd be eight years ago, then. He'd stupidly told Bill before it'd been official, expecting it to stay between brothers.

It was closing on dusk which was when they ate dinner. The different teams circled around campfires, sitting in hammocks or on enchanted rocks that were more comfortable than they looked. It was always quiet but fun around the campfire. Everyone told stories of the day or from back in the day and read letters from home. Quiet.

That is, unless the letter read itself to you in your mother's angry voice.

"_CHARLES GIDEON WEASLEY, WHY IS IT THAT I HAVE TO HEAR OF YOUR BRETROTHMENT FROM ANYWHERE OTHER THAN YOU?! IT'S BEEN DAYS SINCE YOU WERE MARRIED AND I HAVEN'T HEARD HIDE NOR HAIR FROM YOU. I HAVEN'T EVEN HEARD OF THIS WOMAN YOU'RE WITH! I EXPECT AT LEAST A LETTER WHEN MY SECOND SON GETS MARRIED. IF YOU DON'T BRING HER TO CHRISTMAS I WILL PORT KEY OVER THERE MYSELF AND DRAG YOU HOME BY YOUR SHAGGY HAIR."_

The entire encampment was silent as the howler went on and on, destroying Charlie's self-esteem and his pride. He looked everywhere except the large red paper lips that were yelling at him. His eyes landed on familiar hazel ones.

He hadn't seen her since he'd left food for her. Every time he went to drop off her food, she was working with a patient. Two more dragons had started nesting and injuries were only getting worse. She was staring with wide eyes at the howler as if she'd never seen one before.

"Oh, and Remington, is it?" the paper asked sweetly, suddenly turning to the only female in their midst. "Welcome to the family, dear. I look forward to meeting you."

The paper turned back to him and stuck its tongue out before tearing itself to bits. No noise sounded besides the crackling of the fire and the distant roar of a dragon. Trainers looked between Charlie and Remi like they were some kind of muggle circus attraction…and then they continued their conversations as if nothing had ever happened.

Everyone had been speculating about them since the argument they'd had about her eating. He wasn't deaf. He heard them talking. And now it was solidified.

Remi turned and started walking back to the clinic, food and letters from her eagle in hand. Charlie grabbed what was left of his meal and his other letters that _hadn't _been a howler and followed after her.

He opened the door and heard some strange sound coming out of the back office. He flowed it and realized that she was _laughing_! It was kind of funny if he thought about it.

She heard him come in and she tried to cover her laugh but it was obvious with the tears of joy in her eyes. "I-I'm sorry, that was hilarious. That was one of the funniest things I've ever seen! What was that monstrosity?"

Charlie was enjoying seeing her laughing. It showed him that she had a soul under all of that medical jargon and cold exterior. "You don't have howlers in America?"

"God, no, that's terrifying!" She sat her bum on the edge of her desk and wiped a tear from her eye. "I haven't laughed that hard in years."

It was cute…and cute wasn't exactly a word he'd use to describe her. "They're great when they're not aimed at you."

She bit her lip in a way that made heat flare to his groin. Normally such an innocent action wouldn't have gotten to him but it'd been a while since he'd been with a woman. And _this _woman was the only one he'd be allowed to sleep with for a very long time. It was a good thing that he had that kind of reaction.

"Sorry," Remi breathed, reaching for a few of her letters she'd gotten. "It's not my fault that you didn't tell your mother about us. You even said something about it before we got married."

He had. He'd just been too distracted by the _getting married _part to follow through. "And you said something about not being able to tell your family. Care to elaborate?"

She pulled out what looked like a photograph from one of the letters. Her face relaxed from its stern doctor look into a soft one that might have touched his heart if he'd felt something for her. She turned the picture to him and pointed at it. "No-maj," she said simply before pointing back at herself. "Maj."

A still picture greeted him. In it, a young man was smiling with some kind of ball in a gloved hand. He was short and bulky, kind of like Charlie but less so. He was blonde and tan, unlike the man at his shoulder. The older man was frowning, like smiling was out of style. He had brown hair and hazel eyes much like Remi.

"Your family?" he asked.

She nodded. "Brother and dad. Dad's in the no-maj government. He can never know about me. Only if he gets the clearance…and that's a big 'if.' He's getting kind of old and he's going to retire soon so it isn't likely to happen." He eyes were sad and nostalgic as she thought of her family. "And Chris is in college now. Studying to be a lawyer, I think."

"Lawyer?" He wasn't familiar with the muggle term.

"Fights for justice," she said with a small smile. "Kind of like an auror, I guess."

Charlie leaned against the other side of her desk, trying not to crowd her but get close enough to get her comfortable with him. He pulled his wallet out from his back pocket where it always stayed and took out the few pictures he had. All moving. He thought it was weird that hers was still. "This is my family."

"Holy mother of Catholics," she said, her eyes bugging out. He didn't know what a Catholic was but he understood her surprise. The picture was of them all out in Egypt after his father had won the lottery. "I'll never remember all their names."

"This is mum," he said, pointing to his mother with her big red curls. He pointed out each of them as he went through. "And this is my dad, so that's pretty easy. They won't mind 'Mum' and 'Dad.'"

She seemed uncomfortable at that statement but he kept going.

"This is Ginny, the youngest. Mum really wanted a girl. Then there's Bill. He works as a curse breaker for Gringotts."

"No way," she said with a smile, leaning in closer to look. "Is this in Egypt? I loved it there!"

"You went to Egypt?"

"Yeah," she said. "Sometime in your last two years at the Academy, you're placed overseas for six months. I got to lounge on the beach in Egypt and drink beer and cookout while working with medical students from all over the globe. It was great."

"We just thought it'd be nice to visit Bill." He pointed out Percy and Ron, then Fred and George. "George runs a pretty successful gag store in Diagon Alley."

Remi looked at him like he had two heads. "You English wizards are weird. We have a Horizon Alley on top of the World Trade Center." They spent a few minutes discussing which was better (Diagon Alley was, obviously,) before she asked, "And what about Fred?"

"He, ah…he was killed during the Second Wizarding War."

"Oh, Charlie," she sighed, placing her hand on his arm. "I'm so sorry. I understand." He didn't ask how she understood. He knew that America had been going through a blood war too around the same time. It was the reason that both American and England had the marriage laws.

Her hand was small, cold and callused. He brought his own hand up and placed it on hers, hoping to warm it a little. Their eyes met and he realized that they were having a moment. He was finally getting through to her. It wasn't the right time to say, _'so hey, when are we gonna shag?' _but it was a start to their relationship.


	8. Did I hurt you with my naughty gun?

**This chapter contains Mature content, including: dominance, oral sex, rough sex, tipsy consent, and a verrry little bit of butt play. Remember your after-care, everybody. **

* * *

**Chapter 8: Did I hurt you with my naughty gun?**

Remi opened the door to Charlie's_...their_ house, her shoes slung over her shoulder. She was tired of wearing them. They pinched but they had been worth it; her legs and ass had been killer in that dress. It went to the middle of her thighs and was sleeveless, the neck plunging down further than a bra would allow. She felt sexy and confident which was the whole point of going out in the first place.

But she'd made a mistake. Remi realized that she was supposed to have been back hours ago. She'd been so nervous, though, and had stayed out to have a few more drinks. It'd turned into one too many and led to a long walk home rather than try to fly or apparate under the influence.

She saw him sitting at the dining room table, dressed in a nice button-down and khakis. It looked like there had been a candle on the table next to a vase with one rose in it. One place setting was sitting opposite him, unused.

_He…he tried to make me dinner, _she thought. Guilt filled her. It warmed her heart a little, even though she knew it was just so that he could get in her pants. It was their last night to try, so it had to happen whether or not she was ready. _Damn_, but was he handsome. He'd even slicked his hair back and a small amount of scruff was on his face. He had his shirt sleeves rolled up and his muscular forearms showed.

"Hi," she half-whispered, her voice sounding too loud now that she had been out of the loud club for long enough with only ringing in her ears.

He nodded but didn't say anything. Those intense eyes stared into her soul.

"What do you want to do?" she asked, crossing her arms uncomfortably. She had never felt more on edge in her life. What kind of situation was this? Who made two very happy people get married and reproduce? "Bedroom? We haven't had time to talk about it this week, so let's talk before we just…do it."

He stood up and advanced on her. She dropped the shoes and backed into the front door, a little frightened by his large size. Charlie reached for her face and pulled her up until his chapped lips seared against hers. She grasped those hot, bare forearms for support as she stretched up on her tiptoes, trying to find leverage against his lips.

He kissed her _thoroughly. _It'd been so long since she'd kissed a man but she'd never been kissed like her life depended on it. He tasted like peppermint and smoke, like he'd brushed his teeth but he'd been out playing with dragons and drinking some bourbon. His calloused hands were huge against her face before he drug them down her neck, shoulders, to land on her hips and squeeze.

She ran her fingers up his muscled arms to his face, pulling him down to meet her. She bit his lower lip and pulled, opening his mouth to her tongue. He slammed her into the door, their bodies glued to each other. Heat raced down to her core and she clenched her thighs. She could feel every muscle against her. She swirled her tongue around his lower lip then started a battle with his.

She hadn't expected it to make her feel anything. She'd expected having to lay there while he did what was necessary and feel dirty from it afterwards. She hadn't expected foreplay or making out like teenagers in her dad's basement.

One hand found its way down the back of her thigh before pulling her knee up to his side. She could feel his heat fully as he settled between her thighs, using the hand still on her side to move her hips in rhythm with his.

Remi pulled away for breath but he just took to attacking her neck instead. She found it hard to catch her breath and her head was spinning slightly from the alcohol still in her system. "Ch-Charlie," she groaned as he sucked on the area between her neck and shoulder. He hummed against her skin before giving that same area a nip. She hissed between her teeth. If they weren't going to talk, he had to know that she hadn't had sex in a long time. "It's, ah…it's been a while."

He gave a gentle kiss to the red skin there and then again on the side of her cheek. Its sweetness brought tears to her eyes. He made eye contact and put his forehead against hers. "Me, too." He sounded pretty breathless. It made her feel more powerful. "Not too many women around here."

She scoffed as she pushed against his shoulder and couldn't help smile at his shit-eating grin. His breath smelled a little of alcohol, but so did hers. _A little liquid courage never hurt anyone._ "Buy me a drink before…?" She wanted to say _'get into my pants' _but Charlie wasn't one for vulgar talk. It was a shame, too, because dirty talk definitely got her off.

"I think we both've had enough." His hips pushed into hers and she couldn't help but let out a moan. The alcohol helped all of the heat travel downwards where his hot body was pushed against hers. His voice helped, too. _That accent. _"Besides…I want to be sober enough to make sure that this is good for both of us. We're gonna be stuck together for a while…might as well try to enjoy it."

Remi bit her lip and ran her hands up his muscular arms, loving the feel of them. His eyes were too dark when she bit her lip and it made her uncomfortable. He used his thumb to brush against that lip so she released it.

"Don't bite your lip," he said softly, his tongue running out to wet his chapped ones, "that's my job."

Remi nodded, her head spinning from lust, alcohol, and endorphins. She hadn't slept with anyone since the third year of her residency, almost two years ago. And he'd been a little stick compared to Charlie. She definitely wouldn't break Charlie if she wanted to take more than a little ride...

Her hands ran up his shoulders and neck, fingers curling in his shaggy hair. It was long enough to tug gently. A low rumble sounded in his chest as he placed his head on her shoulder. He breathed in her scent and started biting her. It hurt but he soothed every bite with a kiss or a gentle lick of his tongue. She wasn't sure if she liked it so she tugged his hair a little harder, making his breath come faster and his bites become a little harsher. She used her nails to scratch along his scalp and he _really _liked that.

"_Harder_," she thought he heard him breathe against her throat. His chapped lips were trailing further down into the V-neck of her dress. His hips were doing delicious things against her center. His zipper was placed perfectly that when she angled her hips, she got just the right stimulation against her underwear.

She bit her lip and tugged on his hair at the same time that she dug her nails into his scalp. His reaction was almost instantaneous—he bit down on her collarbone and ran his hands up under her skirt, settling on her hips, his nails digging into her skin. His hands were so large that he could put his thumbs on her hipbones and almost touch his middle fingers in the back. His calloused fingers played with the lines of her thong before he met her eyes.

Remi wasn't sure what she looked like because she wasn't sure what she was feeling. Of course, she was pretty far above tipsy. Alcohol made her horny, too, but Charlie was doing most of that work. She was also terrified. She barely knew him, but… _God, this sucks ass. Any other time, I would be enjoying this, but we're forced to be here. And I'm tipsy. I don't..._

He cupped her ass and used it as leverage to grind their hips together. "Get out of your head, doc. I won't hurt you," he groaned, laying his forehead against hers. The blue of his eyes was almost gone in the dark room and the intensity in them scared her more than anything. A smirk suddenly appeared on her face. "Unless you want me to." He proved his point by digging his nails into her ass, gripping her hips a little too tightly for comfort and _grinding _her sex against his.

The heat that spread across her body shocked her. She'd only really ever had "boring" sex—missionary, cowgirl, and doggy-style, but the last two had never really been done correctly. None of her partners had ever made her really feel as hot as she was feeling then. So the thought of him _hurting _her…

"_Yes_," she hissed against his lips, using her grasp on his hair to pull him in for another searing kiss. He pulled a hand away to bring it back with a force, smacking her ass. She yelped against his lips. The sharp pain was dulled as he caressed it.

The lewd smirk on his lips against hers made her cheeks flare in embarrassment. Ready to ignore her yelp and to continue their playing, she grasped the bottom of her dress, already pushed to her waist, and tried to take it off. He grasped her wrists and pushed them over her head. "Dress stays on. It's sexy as fuck."

He _never _swore other than the occasional _'bloody' _so hearing him curse made her actually wet. That and him restricting her hands. And the spanking. _What is this man doing to me? _"Yes, sir," she said softly, her chest heaving against the bodice of her dress. His eyes snapped to hers in a way that excited and terrified her.

He wouldn't let her take her dress off but she was ready to see his bare chest. He let her regain control of her arms as she started at the bottom of his shirt and didn't let her eyes leave his as she unbuttoned it. He breathed through his nose, nostrils flaring, and roughly massaged the thigh that was propped against his hip. He sat her leg down as she pushed the button-up off of his shoulders.

The t-shirt complimented him more than the button-up did but she wanted that gone, too. She ran her fingers against the skin of his stomach and closed her eyes at how grounded it made her feel to touch another person's skin in an intimate way. Not fixing burns or for surgery, but to feel comforted.

He pulled the shirt off before she pushed it further than his navel. Remi had never seen such a perfect specimen of _man_. His chest was riddled with burns, scars, and even tattoos. She ran her fingers over what she assumed was devil's snare around his bicep. Over his shoulder was what seemed to be the tail of some creature that started on his back.

Remembering that he'd liked it, Remi ran her nails lightly down the tattoo's tail, tweaking his nipples as she went. His response was to pick her up and set her on the counter. It hadn't occurred to Remi that they'd been in the kitchen until he pushed aside a mixing bowl to set her down. Charlie stepped between her legs and placed her hands on his waistband. Their eyes met and he raised a brow in questioning.

Their eyes didn't leave each other's as she thumbed open the button on his pants and slid them down his muscular hips…and there was nothing underneath. He kicked them off and stood there in complete naked glory while she was still fully dressed. Curiosity and liquid courage made her reach down and grasp what turned out to be a rather large cock. He wasn't long but he was _thick_. That shouldn't have been a surprise to her but Remi still swallowed hard as she looked down and caressed him. She couldn't see much in the candlelight but she knew by the feel that she was glad for the foreplay.

Her hand stimulated him as he snapped the string to her thong, pulling it from her body without needing to slide it down her legs. She glared at him and gave a small squeeze to his rod in retaliation for destroying a good pair of sexy underwear. He groaned and leaned his head into the cabinets over her shoulder.

"That's it," he whispered, his hands traveling up and down her bare thighs. His thumbs rubbed at the crease between thigh and womanhood. She felt herself blushing as he spoke in that deep British voice. "A little harder, baby girl."

She flushed indignantly at the nickname but found herself doing as he said. He thrust into her hand, right in front of her opening, and she found herself pulling him closer. She wanted to see how well those muscular hips worked.

"Nah-ah," he groaned, slapping her hands away. "You aren't ready. How long's it been?" One of his thumbs ran from the bottom of her vulva to the top, making her forget her words for a moment—especially when that thumb stayed at the top and played around the nub there, not actually touching. "Words, Rem."

"Three years," she gasped as he rewarded her by easing a finger in. It stretched just right, his thick finger stimulating her and sending tingles up her core.

He breathed against her lips and smiled. "Good girl. Now, I'm going to need you to hold on and tell me what you like." He placed an open-mouthed kiss on her chin before he was kneeling before her. She realized what he meant and grasped his hair, trying to pull him away. That seemed to egg him on further and suddenly he was sucking on her clit.

She let out gasps of sound and air as she wrapped her legs around his shoulders. Only one man had ever gone down on her (and only once); it'd been weird and hadn't brought her to orgasm. In contrast, whatever Charlie was doing with his tongue was sending shocks through her system. At one point he used that strangely dexterous tongue to stretch her out before putting two fingers in and curling them as he lined her clitoral hood with his tongue.

Remi tugged on his hair and dug her nails into his scalp like she knew he liked. He renewed his vigor and didn't let up until she was a babbling mess, calling his name and begging him, someone, _something _for more. She came in a rather loud fashion and felt all of the tension fall out of her body.

Charlie was smiling like a cat with cream on his face when he stood back up. He kissed up her neck, biting her earlobe. "I like my women vocal," he breathed, licking the curve of her ear.

She'd never blushed so much in her life. To hide it, she grasped his hair and pulled him in for another kiss. It made her blush harder that he tasted like _her. _

His large hands gripped her hips in a greedy fashion. "Do you want me?" he asked, ignoring the pulling of his hair as she tried to pull him back in for a kiss.

Remi wasn't one for talking. She could never find her words during sex and when she spoke it usually ruined the moment. "In the _kitchen_?" she asked. Then she realized how prudish and outrageous that sounded.

He smirked that roguish smirk. "I just ate you out on the counter and all you could say was _yes, yes, more, please._ So, _yes_, in the kitchen."

Remi didn't want to do vanilla sex if it was like anything she'd had before. But the non-vanilla sex was unsanitary and she'd never be able to cook in that kitchen without blushing _ever_. How Charlie could do all of that and not blush and yet couldn't hear how pregnancy worked without turning scarlet confused the heck out of the doctor.

"Tell me you're ready," he groaned with another bite to her ear. She could tell that he definitely enjoyed the painful side of sex, but he always soothed his love marks with a kiss, caress, or lick. It was maddening.

"You talk too much," she moaned as she wrapped her legs around his waist and used her heels to push him into her. He gasped and braced one hand on the surface behind her, kissing her shoulder and using the other hand to guide her ass the way he wanted it against the edge of the counter. She ran her teeth down the curve of his ear which made him shudder.

"You like it," he replied back. To keep her from responding, he pulled out slowly and thrust back in harshly. Her walls felt like they were on fire but in a good way. She was getting stretched pleasantly and he'd prepared her well.

Later, she'd ask him about his other sexual conquests. He was clean or else they wouldn't have been able to get married. Later, she'd ask him how he learned that trick with his tongue (or maybe ask him to do it again.) Later, she'd ask him how he knew exactly what to do to make her melt. Later…

Everything else had to come later. He kept pace long enough to build her up before he switched, driving her crazy. His hand on her ass guided her, made her feel like she was being used…and she _liked_ it. Remi used her short, trim nails on his back, trying to pull him closer. He responded by biting her lower lip while they kissed, his hips pistoning at a faster, more repetitive rate. His thickness stretched her almost to the point of discomfort, but it burned pleasantly. And he was just long enough to hit something inside of her with every thrust.

Her breath came in heaves as he lifted one of her legs over his shoulder and kissed the crease of her knee. "Tell me what you want," he said, slowing his pace to let her calm down. "Tell me if you want slow passion or hate fucking. Tell me what you need."

She sputtered indignantly at his rather smug face. She'd been _so close _to another orgasm, especially when he'd raised her leg and reached new depths. "I-I don't…_ah!_"

He thrust in unexpectedly. "Vocal but wordless. Fine, I'll tell you what_ I'm_ going to do to _you_. Maybe not tonight or tomorrow, but at some point." He used his thrusts as pauses in his speech. Remi found herself unable to breathe, let alone respond. _He can't listen to medical terminology but he can talk dirty? _"First, I'm going to fatten you up. I like to play rough and you are too fragile." He punctuated his meaning by squeezing her hips too tightly, making her yelp. "That means eating periodically throughout the day, no _forgetting."_

Remi nodded and gripped his biceps tighter, trying to grasp onto something to keep from passing out. Him taking control was one of the hottest things she'd ever heard. She was a strong, independent woman but _damn it _if she didn't want to be told what to do every so often.

"Another thing: I'm going to eat you out at any opportunity. Cooking in the kitchen? Of course. Taking a bath? Definitely. Sleeping? Fuck yes. It gets me off to get you off. And it's better if it's a surprise _and _it prepares you the best way that I know how."

Remi thought that she was going to pass out from all of the stimulation. She could only imagine him coming into her office, bending her over her desk, and… "Yes!" she cried when he lowered her leg and picked her up, setting her on his hips and using his hands and gravity to move her up and down on his shaft. "Yes, _anything_…"

He chuckled salaciously in her ear, biting it again. "Guess I know how to win an argument with you now."

She scratched his back and neck, trying to keep a hold as he used her for his own pleasure. She wanted to feel his skin against hers but he'd told her not to take the dress off. She used her inner muscles to squeeze him and he groaned, leaning back onto the counter for support.

"Good, good" he groaned. "You're learning." He picked her up and pushed her down like she weighed nothing and his fingers were leaving permanent indents in her skin.

"Charlieee," she groaned when their angle changed and her clit was stimulated by his pubic bone. "_Please_..."

"When we fuck," he whispered into her ear as she searched for air, "it won't be quick. Our bodies work well together, so that's in our favor." Remi wasn't sure how he could talk when his hips were moving so fast. "It's going to be fast, slow, whatever I decide or whatever makes you cum the hardest. I'm your Dom, you're my sub, or this relationship won't work. At least in the bedroom, I'll give and you'll take. Deal?"

Remi grabbed his face and had to take a few deep breaths before she could talk. He didn't take his eyes from her as he lifted her, quickly sinking her back down onto his dick. "Why?"

"It gets me off," he said in a husky voice that made her groin clench in lust. He groaned and nipped at her lips. "Just like me commanding you and talking dirty to you makes your muscles do that delicious thing they just did."

She realized that they were both covered in a good layer of sweat. She'd never been thoroughly _fucked _like this before. He must have realized that she was still confused because he smirked and pushed a piece of hair off her forehead. It was strangely intimate.

"If you hadn't responded well to this tonight, I would have simply left you with some of my…" he blushed a little, giving Remi hope for humanity once again. "I wouldn't try to enjoy your body. It'd be purely mechanical. But, if it doesn't have to be…" He punctuated that pause with a few deep, slow thrusts and a kiss that left Remi's head spinning. "Then why not have some fun, yeah?"

Remi hissed out a _"Yesss_" as he pushed her back up against a wall and started pistoning his hips in and out at a rate that seemed inhuman. She wrapped her arms around his neck and breathed her appreciation into his ear.

Charlie ran a finger from where they were connected to her ass, coating his finger in her natural lubrication. It pushed against her anus and she gasped, arching away from it in partial disgust and from all of the stimuli it suddenly sent through her body. She was so close—it felt good but her mind told her _no._

"Shh, shh," Charlie hummed in her ear like she was some kind of unruly dragon. "I know what I'm doing." Finally, he sounded out of breath as if their physical activity was doing something to him. "Come for me, baby girl…"

Remi used her heels to push his hips further into her, if that was at all possible. She sat back down against the wall and let his finger worm its way into her back entrance against all of her instincts. When his finger went in to the first knuckle, she felt her world explode.

Sounds didn't come out that time. Her mouth was open and her head was back, eyes closed, but she couldn't physically make noise. "Breathe, Rem," Charlie groaned in her ear as he pushed in and out erratically, obviously close to finishing. "_Merlin_, you're so tight…"

Remi took in deep, ragged breaths as she clung to Charlie like her life was worth it. Her head was spinning and she felt like every last bone in her body was made of pudding. That was medically impossible but she was so relaxed and _tired_ that she just hugged him as he released into her. His unrestrained groan was beauty to her ears. He'd been so in control for the entire performance, it was good to know that he was human like her. She had no clue anything could feel like that. And her ass added to it? _What?!_

He felt so good inside of her. Even when he finished, they stayed connected. Charlie cradled her close and hugged her like they were truly husband and wife, like they'd been in a loving relationship for years and not just a week.

She started falling asleep by the time she felt him moving. He took her into the bathroom and cleaned her up but she was so boneless that she let him. She'd never let anyone else take care of her personal hygiene.

"Stay awake, Rem," he said softly as he sat her on the toilet. "You've got to see how I take care of these bruises."

"I'm a doctor," she said breathlessly. She knew how to take care of herself.

He pulled out some kind of medicine from behind his bathroom mirror, smoothing the thick yellow paste onto her hips which were becoming dark and sore. It said Weasley on it so she wasn't sure if it was a personal bottle or he'd invented it for sexual reasons. Either way made her head spin. "I know. But you aren't sexually experienced in this way and I want to make sure you're being taken care of after our sessions. I like to be rough but that shouldn't physically mar or hinder you."

She looked down to see his tanned hands gently massaging her red thighs. He'd already washed up her nether regions and his and he was still walking around stark naked. "You're into dominance? BDSM and shit?"

"Sort of," he said softly, picking her back up and taking her into the bedroom. "You need to sleep for now. We can talk more about that later. I just wanted to make sure that you were receptive of it."

She was more than receptive to it. No man had ever made her orgasm that hard, let alone _twice _in one go. She was asleep the second he laid her down on a bed.


	9. Where's the KABOOM?

**Chapter 9: Where's the KABOOM?**

He woke up to a completely empty bed. The sun had just risen and he couldn't hear anyone in the house. The side of the bed where's she'd stayed sequestrated was made, which in itself was unusual as he never made his bed unless he was staying at his childhood home. He could smell something delicious and warm brewing outside his door.

He stood up and didn't bother pulling on anything other than his briefs—his _wife_ would have to deal with his usual appearance if she was in his house. She'd have to get used to his house, his rules, and especially himself.

Charlie walked into his kitchen to a surprising sight—his wife in those short running pants again, a tanktop on underneath a white robe. She was reading what looked like a newspaper except there were no moving pictures on it. Everything was stationary.

On the counter sat a to-go coffee cup and a small brown bag. He didn't recognize the brand.

She didn't even glance up when he came in. "I got you some coffee. And a breakfast sandwich."

So, she was going to play the 'it didn't happen' game. They didn't need to be friendly, just needed to get the job done and have some fun along the way. He could respect that. "I'll live. Thanks, though."

Remington licked her finger to get a better grip on the page. He felt a small bit of heat shoot to his cheeks at the innocent action. "...Right. Well, in any case, I'll be going for my morning run soon. Do I need to be told where I'm allowed to jog or can I just put my headphones on and go?"

Charlie didn't know what 'headphones' were (he could only think of his father putting two of those strange telephones muggles used on her head) but he did know what jogging was. "Jogging...is that good for making a baby? Y'know, you don't want to overexert yourself or anything." He could tell you about hundreds of magical creature pregnancy traits and what was healthy, but bullocks if he couldn't tell you what a human pregnancy was like.

Those bright green eyes finally acknowledged him. None of the passion or vulnerability was there anymore—now, she was a tightly-locked, cold-hearted doctor again. "Exercise is good—great, even—for the uterus and for ovulating. If you expect me to sit in this kitchen with bare feet and not lift a finger...well, you've got another thing coming."

He couldn't help but stare at her in awe. She tossed about words like _uterus _and _ovulating _in a too-detached way. Merlin, though, how she _blushed_ when she wasn't in control_._ During sex the night before, she hadn't even been able to utter a word. That cold, collected doctor became a hot and bubbling mess with the right push. Eventually, he might be able to soften her up when they weren't in the sheets too.

Instead of reacting to her coldness, he grabbed the map that was hanging on a knob next to the doorway and laid it out on the table next to her. As he leaned over, he saw a creamy view of her chest down her tank top. That was one thing he hadn't gotten to see the night before but he loved it when a woman wore clothes while he was fucking them. It made him feel like they could be caught at any point, like he'd pulled her pants down at the last moment in public and was fucking her where anyone could see.

_The map_, he thought, clearing his throat. The map was made out of a worn erumpet hide, colored with ink bled from crushed billywigs. The different colors came from the tempering of the ink, creating a map that was almost impossible to destroy—even by dragon fire. Harsh red lines drew out each and every dragon enclosure, showing where they crossed and where they didn't. Elevation levels and heights of magical domes were also marked in his chicken scratch in a harsh black on the brown leather. There weren't many places that the dragons couldn't roam, which meant that she wouldn't have much room to run.

"There's a ten-by-ten kilometer area for housing and recreation for the tamers marked here in blue. The pathways are marked in green but they aren't really pathways anymore—and if you break an ankle or something out there, it'll be days before someone finds you. We usually fly to each enclosure. Stay _out _of the red areas."

"Got it. Just leave the map out for one moment..." She took out some large rectangle and opened it. A flash of light blinded him for a moment.

"What the bloody hell was that?" he asked, snatching the erumpet hide away. He didn't want her ruining his handmade map with some muggle _thing_!

She turned the rectangle around and, in a smaller rectangle inside it, was a lightened image of his map. "I took a picture of the map so it will be on my person at all times. This is a cell phone, a Nokia."

Charlie looked at the rectangle and snatched it out of her hand. She gave an angry '_hey!'_ but he didn't pay her any mind. Rather, he looked at the small numbers on the bottom half and up at the picture that still stayed there. "This is not a _phone_." Was that a shortened form of 'telephone?' "Phones are big and bulky and have wires. This..."

She stood up and snatched it back from him. Charlie wasn't all that tall, but her shortness made her appear very unthreatening. "It's a _cellular phone_.* Regular phones use cables. Cellular phones use frequencies in the air that send and receive sound waves."

Charlie just blinked a few times and sighed. Muggle studies hadn't exactly been his best class, and the contraptions his father brought home had been more annoying than interesting. "Whatever you say, Rem."

She looked just as frustrated. She put her newspaper down and stood up, shedding the white house robe she'd been wearing. Bruises covered her thighs and her neck was red and love-marked. It made him stir in his shorts and a smile appear on his face. "I'm going out now."

Coughing to hide his laugh, he leaned against the doorframe to keep her from passing. "You're a little banged up to be going out in that outfit." He gestured to the mirror next to the door.

He'd never studied her blush outside of sex before but it was rather becoming. Her shoulders and ears flushed as much as her cheeks. "I'm aware of the marks. I'll put a disillusionment charm on them when I get back to my office." At his raised eyebrow, she said, "And my wand."

He found it interesting that she couldn't do wandless magic. Still, he didn't want her to feel more uncomfortable than she already visibly looked. "Come here, I'll hide them for you." Remi took a step back, looking rather like a skittish rabbit near a fox. He sighed and held his arms out. "I'm not going to attack you. We both have work to do and I'd rather you not get to the clinic looking like I beat you up."

Her eyes were hesitant as she came closer. She held her breath as he placed his fingertips against her neck first. He could feel her shaking and feel her vocal cords move as she asked, "You said…"

He'd said a lot the night before. He knew what she was thinking, though, and wanted to tease her about it. "I said what, love?" The healing magic came from his fingertips as he moved his hands down her neck and over her shoulders and collarbone where dozens of bites and bruises lay. Then he covered what couldn't be healed with his meager knowledge.

Her cheeks were _scarlet. _"N-nothing."

Charlie knelt down and ran his hands up under her top, sending the healing magic to her waist where he knew his hands had left imprints. She gasped and took deep breaths through her nose as he continued lower, to her thighs. Her hands grasped his shoulders and she was tense like he was going to take her any second.

"Relax, Rem," he said with a soft kiss to a rather pretty bruise on the inside of her thigh. "If I wanted you, you'd know." Although her fingers in his hair was giving him rather beautiful flashbacks of the night before. She'd been very responsive, even if she hadn't been able to speak. He'd have to fix that because he needed her to tell him if she didn't like something. She hadn't even been able to answer when he'd asked what she liked and wanted him to do.

The last of the bruises were healed and/or covered so he stood up, towering over her puny little frame. She was definitely in shape though. He'd especially noticed it in her thighs and ass which he watched turn and move towards the front door.

"Thanks," she said flatly, still obviously on edge. She grabbed her phone and put it in a pocket inside those little silk shorts before turning back to look at him. "I'll be staying at the clinic tonight."

Not that he was complaining about having the bed to himself but...his deflating pride made him stupid. "Aren't we supposed to keep trying?" He wanted to teach her some new things. The only time he could really get a commanding word in was when he was fucking her senseless anyway.

Sharp green glared at him, marred by an obvious lust on round cheekbones. "Once every three days, I'm yours. Elsewise...I want nothing to do with you." She turned and left before he could get a word in edgewise.

Charlie hit one set of knuckles against the palm of his other hand and grunted, "Bollocks."

* * *

*** I took liberty on when the first picture phone comes out. I don't think it's until a year or two later, but I wanted her to have a picture phone Nokia because that's the 2000's, baby!**


	10. Bad ol' Puddy Tat

**Bad ol' Puddy Tat**

* * *

_God, I'm such a bitch._

He'd given her one of the best nights of her life and all she'd been able to say was that she wanted nothing to do with him. Remi ran off her frustration with herself and beat her personal best mile time _and_ total distance. It was good to know that marital problems helped her with running because at least she'd become an Olympic athlete.

Remi showered and changed at the clinic which was where most of her clothes were. No one was up at six in the morning, it seemed, and she sat down in the front office with a cup of coffee before she realized that there was a girl in the lobby.

The girl was pretty and small, with light blonde hair and bright blue eyes. "Oh, hello," she said simply. There was definitely an accent there but Remi wouldn't be able to place it until the girl talked more. "You must be one of the other marriage-law wives. I'm Candice Smith, Jared's wife."

_Scottish? Irish? _Remi almost asked how the girl knew that but then realized that there weren't many women on the reservation. Then she was just confused. "Wait, you're old enough to be married?" She looked like a child! How could the magical world do that to a young girl?

"Eighteen. Although sixteen is legal in Scotland. Nothing to stop me from being put in the pool with everyone else." She looked like a child! Hell, she _was _a child.

_God, I'm over a decade over this girl. A child having a child? That's not right. _Remi wasn't usually left speechless—unless, of course, her husband was doing delicious things to her but that was beside the point—but she couldn't find any words for this Candice girl.

"So you're the healer?" The girl was most definitely pure-blooded. Most no-maj wizards Remi knew said 'doctor.'

"Yes," she was finally able to say. _I didn't know that Jared was no-maj. _She filed that away for later to bring up to her husband's closest coworker. Maybe she could make a friend, too. "If you need anything, especially when you get pregnant, just let me know."

"Thank you, Healer…"

"Just Remi is fine."

"Remi," she said with a wide smile. "I actually came here to see if you needed any help. There really aren't many things to do around here. The grocery store, gym, even the restaurant are all filled with either teenagers or really old men."

The men not fit for duty had to work at all of the excess stores. That meant the elderly and the kids who had graduated but were too green or weak for their own good took all of the regular, everyday jobs. Remi knew the pain and was thankful that at least she was able to work in the clinic. "I understand. What did you concentrate on in school?"

"Potions," the girl said with a blush, "but Hogwarts had a rough go of it finding a new potions master after the war. That and technically I never finished."

Remi stared at the girl incredulously. How could Hogwarts let go of a girl without giving her the proper training to make a life for herself? Remi was a doctor, she'd been through countless years of schooling to get where she was in life. This girl had taken, what, four or five years of potions? That wasn't even considered the basics when it came to being a healer! "You're kidding me."

Candice blushed cutely, making Remi feel a little bad. "N-no, I'm sorry if that's not enough to work for you-"

The doctor sighed and ran a hand through her hair, much like her husband would have done. "Right. Um, well, until I see what you can do I can't let you make anything too advanced. We run out of burn paste quite a bit. Have you made that before?"

The girl's eyes widened. "Yes! The thick orange kind? I helped the professor make that quite a bit. You wouldn't believe how often people burn themselves on the cauldrons."

_Oh, I would. _"Alright. So what else do you know how to make? Do you understand Golpallot's Third Law?" The boys got poisoned quite often, surprisingly.

Candice's face fell again. "No, but I swear, I'll study whatever you throw my way! I just…I can only clean the house so much." Her eyes filled with tears and Remi found herself cringing on the inside.

"Okay, okay, you can help. Start by making ten large batches of burn paste. The ingredients you need are already laid out in the back room." That saved Remi from having to do it. She usually gave the men an entire jar instead of making them come in every single time they got burned. All they had to do was bring her replacement herbs and something she needed in her store room.

The girl wasn't bad, it turned out. The orange paste was just as good as any that Remi could have made and it saved Remi four hours of potion work that she could use to do paperwork and deal with patients. Eventually, Remi figured she could let Candice do the paperwork and sit in the front office for a few hours a day so that Remi just had to supervise and work on patients.

For the first time in quite a while, Remi didn't feel so stressed or overworked. Only one dragon was still breeding, the rest had become impregnated or already had their eggs or fell out of heat. In fact, she felt almost…_good_. She was relaxed and didn't feel like she wanted to kill every patient who walked through the door.

Around lunchtime, Remi actually had nothing to do. She sat in the front office and looked around, taking in everything, ignoring the throbbing ache of her pelvis and ass. She had her own clinic. She got paid a decent wage and had free reign over everything, from the awful shag carpet (which had to go at some point) to the types of potions and medicine used in the clinic. She wasn't necessarily happy, but…it wasn't _awful._

She looked out onto the Romanian landscape and had to admit that it was beautiful in a completely different way than, say, New York. She could appreciate the beauty of both. And then something even more beautiful walked past the window—her husband.

_When did I start thinking of him as beautiful? _she wondered, feeling herself blushing as he smiled widely and laughed to one of the wranglers he was walking with. His hair was being blown about in the wind and he slid one hand in the pocket of his tight-fitting jeans. _God, he could be a model. _Heat pooled in her groin and she flushed, trying to get the thought of what was hidden in those jeans out of her head.

Charlie then turned and started coming towards the clinic. Remi felt herself blushing as she started organizing the papers on her desk, trying to appear busy. Sadly she'd already done everything but he wouldn't know that! She couldn't bear to face him, not after the way she'd treated him that morning.

He came in, a small chime signaling the opening of the front door. She looked up from under her lashes to see that he'd brought her lunch. Lunch! Like she wasn't the ice queen he'd come to know! "'Morning, Doc. I usually don't see you sit during the day." He got closer and leaned down, setting the bag of food next to her before he smiled devilishly. "Did I wear you out?"

The air left her body as she stared into his gorgeous blue, mischievous, twinkly damned eyes. She felt more heat pool in her core as she clenched her legs shut, like he would be able to sense her arousal. "I-I…"

Candice decided then to interrupt. _Thank Merlin, child, for your perfect timing! _ "Remi, I finished the potions and…oh! Oh Merlin!" Suddenly the girl was standing in front of Charlie, clasping her hands in front of her as she stared up in hero-worship to the man that Remi was married to. "Charlie Weasley! I'd heard you were here, but…_wow!_"

Charlie looked just as surprised as Remi was. "Do I know you?" he asked not un-kindly. Remi didn't think that he had a mean bone in his body…but he did have a— _No, no, back off on that line of thought!_

"No, no, of course not," Candice gasped, full of nervous energy. "I didn't start at Hogwarts until years after you left, but your legacy there was amazing!" The girl's eyes flashed to Remi's. "Did you know that he could have gone professional?"

Remi looked at her husband and had to swallow a smile at his discomfort. "Ah, no, I didn't. Quodpot?"

Both of them reacted negatively almost instantly. Candice interrupted Charlie before he could speak. "Goodness, no! You Americans and your Quodpot! _Quidditch! _He was the best Seeker this side of the Atlantic. Shame you never went pro, Mr. Weasley, sir."

Charlie's face melted from shock and discomfort to caring and understanding. "It's just Charlie, miss…?"

"Candice Ole—" She stopped and flushed. "Candice Smith, now, I guess."

Somehow he became even _more _understanding. It just made Remi feel even worse about that morning and she wanted to push it to the recesses of her mind. "You Jared's new girl, eh?"

_Literal 'girl,' _Remi thought angrily. She wondered if Jared and Candice had had to… It made her angry and uncomfortable at the same time. Remi and Charlie were two consenting adults, one of whom had unusual tastes in the sex department. Candice, on the other hand, was so young! Eighteen was still legal age, but...it just felt wrong.

The two conversed for a while. Remi started feeling like a third wheel. Candice definitely had a hero complex placed on Charlie and it showed as she _oohed _and _ahhed _about Charlie's life on the reserve. He'd never shared anything like that with Remi.

Remi felt almost…jealous? _No! _She wasn't the jealous type. She picked up the book she'd been meaning to give Candice and wasn't sure if she was grimacing as she did. "Here." She interrupted the girl trying to touch Charlie's chest. "The Healer's Helpbook. If you really wanna help out around here, know that book from top to bottom. Don't try any of the spells without a licensed healer there."

Charlie stared at Remi like he was looking directly into her soul. Like he knew exactly what she was thinking. Candice just beamed and took the book with a heartfelt, "Thank you so much! I'll study it all and have it memorized, I promise." Then the girl noticed the food that Charlie had brought. "Oh, are you two going out for lunch? I could watch the front desk until you get back and send a patronus if something really bad happens while you're gone!"

The husband and wife in the room stared at each other in shock. Were they going to go out to lunch? Remi looked to the food and noticed it was only one serving. "Aren't you going to eat, Charles?"

He nervously ran his fingers over his stomach. "Already did, actually. Made you some stroganoff. All right?"

He cooked, too! Was there nothing wrong with him? He had to have been hiding an entire pleasure room with rope and whips and chains. Actually, he totally would have that. Or he had commitment issues. Or mommy problems. "Y-yes. Of course. I'll see you soon?" It came out as a question. Candice just stared at them curiously.

"Yeah." He made his way towards the door.

Remi stood up and almost too loudly said, "Charlie!" He turned to look at her, sunlight flitting across his pretty blue eyes and freckled skin. She lost her breath for a moment. "I, ah…I'm sorry."

His face melted into one of understanding again. "It's all good, Doc. Don't overwork yourself, yeah?"

The doctor watched him leave, her stomach clenching as she tried to reconcile her emotions. "…Yeah."


End file.
